


Wrecked

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [45]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Creature Dean Winchester, M/M, Naturalist Castiel, Shipwrecks, meet weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 23:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Discord ficlet written to the prompt: Lost in a storm
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/708447
Comments: 19
Kudos: 71





	Wrecked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darmys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darmys/gifts).

"Gabe?" Cas called hoarsely. Salty water spattered his lips, made it nigh-impossible to open his eyes, as choppy waves surged around him and the wreckage he clung to threatened to disintegrate. "Gabriel!" Rain pelted him, drops like hale against his skin, and though he squinted and struggled, the world was darkness and water, wind and fear. He opened his mouth to shout again and got a mouthful of ocean - or maybe it was rain, he couldn't tell any longer. Benumbed arms slipped from riven wooden boards, splinters tearing at his skin.

Gabriel was probably dead.

The crew was probably dead.

A wave washed over him, dashed him into the depths, toppled and turned him until he didn't know which way was up, and with what sense he had left, he couldn't deny...

_ I’m probably dead. _

Realizing it, acknowledging it, galvanized him to action. He  _ wasn't _ dead, not yet, and he didn't want to die. He could still fight, still swim, still maybe, somehow, find his way home. Flailing and kicking, he struggled - against the weight of his clothes, against the eddying and surging ocean currents, against the cold that settled into his bones, against his increasingly morose thoughts, against his body’s desperate need for air, against the kelp that caught at his ankles and tried to pull him fathoms down.

He fought, and he fought, and he fought.

Until he couldn't fight any longer, and the ocean swallowed him whole, water filling him, seaweed enfolding him, agonizing and strangely peaceful, strangely comforting.

_ It wasn’t a bad life, or a bad death. At least I tried... _

* * *

With a spluttering, wracking cough, Cas rolled onto his stomach.Bbile and rancid salt water coated his mouth, choking forth from his lungs and stomach. Sand ground beneath his hands, knees, and toes, and his reality was consumed by the twisting in his belly, the rebellion of his chest, the need to clear himself of the poison filling him. It felt a lifetime before he could breathe through his scoured throat; exhausted, he collapsed to the sand, blinking tears and filth from his eyes as he struggled to assess his surroundings.

Pure black sand beach extended a brief distance before him, ending abruptly in...a stone wall? That couldn't be right, but he couldn’t interpret what he saw any other way. As blurred as his sight was, he could have credited grayness to a leaden sky, but the stone was more black than gray, basalt flecked with glittering mica. There must be an exit, though, for there was light, magnified to near-day time by the flecks of shine embedded in the black rock and twinkling like gemstones amidst the sand. He rolled to his back - and there was basalt above him - rolled to his other side - basalt to his left - twisted around - basalt behind him - forced himself to a seated position - basalt before him - and waves lapped at his toes. The grotto was completely enclosed.

Where was the light coming from?

Wait.

The water was glittering.

The water was  _ glittering _ .

Stunned, Cas crawled to the shallows, used the warm water to rinse the sand from his hands, and rubbed his eyes, blinking away the sting of salt. The rivulets that ran over his skin shimmered and swirled with lighted motes, dazzling blue flickering and fading. He'd heard of such phenomena - studied them with his brother, as they documented the wonders of the natural world - but in his varied experiences, the light only formed when the water was disturbed, when someone or something swam, and...

The pain finally faded from Cas' eyes, his vision the clearest it had been since the winds of the hurricane had tossed  _ HMS Explorer  _ like a child's toy to shatter amidst the storm. The grotto was gorgeous, volcanic most likely, and now he could make out sculptures carved around the periphery of the room - the Argo, Poseidon, Odysseus, Winged Victory...ancient as the Greeks they depicted who'd once mythologically ventured amongst the islands through which Castiel and his fellows sailed, pristine as if new-carved.

The waters roiled. In their midst, thick lengths of kelp sloshed and shifted, moved like living things.

_ That's impossible. _

Masses of seaweed surged, twisted, twirled, rose above the waves shedding shimmering streams, settled down below.

_ There's no such thing as a kraken - even if that storm was as devastating as any Charybdis could have been... _

The waters parted.

A form rose from their midst. 

It might have been sentient seaweed, the ocean given form. Water dripped from lengths of plant that stirred like Medusa's hair, and as more of...yes, it was definitely a creature,  _ the  _ creature rose from the depths, Cas realized it was hair in truth, tresses grown from the head of a monster with the appearance of a man...no, Gods above, with the appearance of a Greek god, green eyes glowing, pale green skin flawless, every muscle sculpted as from marble. Blue veins showed through flesh near-translucent in places, lengths of kelp so artfully placed over shoulders, chest, and hips that Cas couldn't conceive that they'd fallen just so by accident.

He was  _ gorgeous _ .

He was utterly inhuman.

Castiel couldn't tear his eyes away.

For a lifetime, Cas and his brothers had fought for the rule of reason and rationality against the masses belief in gods, superstition, and fable. After their childhood experiences, they were sure, so  _ incredibly _ sure, there was nothing supernatural in the world.

It was time for Castiel to take a long, hard look at the world-view he espoused.

Or, at least, he'd take a long, hard look at  _ something _ .

"Eimai o kosmitoras," intoned the creature.

_ I am the dean. _

_ Well, that answers...absolutely no questions. _

"Castiel," he croaked. 

At least his voice worked at all. 

At least he was fluent in Greek.

"Charika poly."

At least if he was going to be lost in a storm - at least if he was lost, spiritually and literally - life was about to become  _ extremely _ interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh I'm so sorry I know this really only feels like the start of a story or even a teaser, but this IS the end, and it's all I'm planning to write, so please don't ask. I epic failed at actually making this one an effective ficlet. It happens sometimes...


End file.
